Chapter 4
“Captain—you there?” Shana knew it was Dane who had disconnected. She smirked at no one in particular since she was all by herself—sort of. At the same time, she felt Dane’s disconnection end the fun for the night. Deflated, all the miles of travel caught up at once and she gave a loud yawn.
“I’m here. Sounds like you need shut-eye.”
“Yeah. Over—”
“Not so fast. Dane was right about one thing—you will need to study up—”
“Will do. In the AM. I’m a morning person, Cap. Anything else? You’re starting to sound like my handler.”
“That’s because I am.”
“You handling Dane too?”
“Except when he’s handling me.”
If she weren’t so tired she’d have laughed. As it was, she smiled.
“Don’t you have a family, Cap?” The question seemed logical until after she heard herself.
Out loud it sounded like pathetic fishing for personal information about a wife and kids by a woman on the prowl.
Which she was most definitely not. Especially not with good old Captain Nice.
Although she couldn’t say why after her subconscious asked her the inevitable question.
“No family. No life. I live the job,” Cap said with a smile in his voice. Then he added, “Just like you.”
“Touché. We’ll talk in the AM. Nightie-night then.”
“Sleep well. Pull the blinds, lock the doors and turn on the alarms as if you’re a rich heiress.”
“Or as if I’m being watched,” she added and clicked the button off. She hadn’t meant to flirt with the man. He was getting to her. But she’d be making an extra effort to resist him from now on. That was for certain.
* * *
Shana locked the door behind her as she rushed down the walk to the waiting cab.
The ride to the small town was short and if she wasn’t in character she’d have thrown on her sneakers and walked or even jogged.
As it was, she would be buying more of the same expensive stylish clothes at the local boutique—per Dane’s instructions via the two-way earlier.
She wasn’t sure if she should be taking notes on tradecraft or scoffing.
She ditched the two-way, turning it off and stuffing it in her bag.
Within ten minutes, the cab pulled to the curb in front of the designated boutique.
She gave the driver a twenty-dollar bill, not exactly sure if she was over-tipping but hoping she had, and got out.
Adopting her haughtiest pose, she marched toward the store, knowing that her first purchase needed to be a bigger, better bag.
Her small sporty knockoff would not pass examination by a professional looking for a real-deal rich girl.
Even though she expected Dane to be at the boutique, she pulled up when she saw him leaning against his car about thirty feet down the street. If he looked casual yet vaguely cosmopolitan yesterday, Dane looked like a million bucks today. Back home in Sydney, she might have let out a wolf whistle.
* * *
Dane flipped his phone from his pocket and punched her cell number. The instant she answered and before she finished the first syllable of hello, he said, “Turn on your two-way.” Then he punched off the call and tossed the phone into the car and onto the passenger seat.
Two beats later, his two-way crackled to life and he heard, “What the hell, Dane. I hardly got a chance to get out of the cab.”
“That was your first mistake of the day.”
“Go—”
“Now, now, girlie—don’t spoil the beach bunny vibe.”
“You mean haughty heiress, don’t you?”
“Can’t be too haughty. Need to look interested in men.” He paused and couldn’t resist overriding his professionalism—this one last time, he promised himself—and added, “You are interested in men, aren’t you?”
Dead silence. She’d turned the damn thing off, upping his ante in the lack of professionalism department.
He allowed himself a small smile before reining himself in.
Maybe he needed his vacation more badly than he thought.
He wondered how wise it was of him not to quit the assignment.
A fine sharp pain stretched between his shoulder blades as if he were whipping himself into compliance.
He glanced down the street at her then past her.
It was too late to quit. It was too late for everything. An unfamiliar car with familiar plates pulled into traffic behind him. The game was on.
* * *
She stepped inside Citrine Boutique with his words still burning her ears but managed to shed the acid, keeping only the key direction “not so haughty” in mind. After all, she wanted information about her long-lost friend Susan Whittier and they knew she shopped here.
“Welcome, miss. I’m Emma. Please let me know if I can assist you.” The woman approached her with a smile and her hand outstretched. Shana took it and figured it wouldn’t be too hard to be friendly to Emma.
“Oh, please do. I can always use professional shopping assistance.”
“Wonderful. Size six?”
Shana would normally be surprised that the woman guessed correctly, but she maintained her air of privileged cool like an invisible net over her real self.
The character she played would be used to such service at such shops.
Most people thought her larger. It was her broad shoulders and oversized breasts that usually threw them off.
“My friend, maybe you know her—Susan Whittier—recommended your shop highly. I can’t wait to get together with her. I just got in yesterday.” Shana stopped to admire a scarf, watching the woman from the corner of her eye.
“Oh. I don’t know. I heard—I’m not sure if she’s still on the island.”
“Why would you say that? She told me she’d be here. We have plans for such fun.” Shana gave the woman all her attention now and willed her to say something.
“I don’t know. She wasn’t at home two days ago when we went to deliver a dress she had altered. And it was strange because she didn’t answer calls either. I just assumed she left the island. But…” The woman looked around as if for a clue from a nearby mannequin.
“But what? It doesn’t sound like her to take off without notice, unless…”
“Well, there was a gentleman. I thought at first she’d gone off with him. But…”
Shana gave a sly smile and said, “That does sound like her, but … what?”
“But I saw him yesterday at the Main Street Grill. I said hello to him and he very charmingly remembered my name although we met only once. I asked him about Ms. Whittier and he said he hadn’t seen her in days and to give his regards when I saw her. So… I’m sorry. I don’t know where she is.”
“What was the man’s name? Was he French?”
“Why, yes. Mr. Ruse. Did she tell you about him?”
“She mentioned him only in passing. Very strange.” Shana checked her watch and determined to change the mood with a bright smile.
She didn’t want to arouse speculation about the missing heiress.
They needed to keep the investigation under the radar if they thought to find her alive and bring in the perpetrators.
“I’m sure I’ll catch up with her. In the meantime, show me what you have. I packed light this trip.”
Determined to buy up a storm before her partner caught up with her, she followed the woman, who circled around the sumptuous boutique picking one stunning piece off the racks after another.
“And you will need at least one special night-out dress, I think?” The woman hesitated over a small rack of swirling slinky dresses.
Shana nodded again. The woman picked a shimmering turquoise dress that looked too small for a ten-year-old—and was missing a back. But the color.
“The color suits you.”
“What there is of it,” she muttered as they headed for the dressing room.
After trying on the beachy and flirty dresses and the strolling-around-town outfits, and building up an impressive buy pile, she skipped to the turquoise temptation.
Slipping it on, she tugged at the hem but it wouldn’t go any lower than four inches below her crotch.
She pushed the dressing room door open and stepped out into the small area outside the rooms to ask for Emma’s opinion.
Dane stood there next to Emma, arms folded. Emma glowed.
Shana’s eyes locked on Dane’s and in spite of her first instinct to hide under the nearest sofa, she remained rooted. Pulling back her shoulders to emphasize her already erect posture, she struck a seductive pose, feeling like she may as well be sticking her tongue out at him.
“Well, don’t just stare. What do you think?
” She left off the “big boy” she said inside her head.
He looked out of his usual character in his formfitting silk knit shirt with his tanned muscles bulging under the short sleeves.
His dark pants fit snugly across his hips and upper thighs.
The clothes looked more expensive than the store-full she had just tried on, combined.
She was impressed, but then she noticed the watch on his wrist—a Breitling—and almost gasped.
Where did this guy come from? Who was he really?
Then he spoke to her in a cool, dark voice, a new one she hadn’t heard before.
“If you buy that dress—Miss?”
“Shana. Call me Shana.”
“I promise to take you to a place that deserves you and your stunning dress.”
“Tempting. But I don’t even know your name.”
“Dane.”
“Dane. What’s a man like you doing in a boutique like this?”
“Oh, Mr. Dane shops here all the time,” Emma said, like they were best buds.
That stopped Shana from her planned pithy response.
“I came in to buy a gift,” he said in that low, rumbling, confident drawl he had put on for her—or for their act. They were only playing roles.
She saw the teasing glint in lieu of a smirk.
“A gift? Lucky lady.”
“Yes, my sister is a lucky lady. She just had a baby and deserves something special for the occasion.”
Too perfect. Captain Nice had to be feeding him these lines.
“Mr. Dane has several sisters and he treats them very well,” Emma put in.
While she thought I’ll bet she said out loud, “Lucky sisters.”
She distinctly remembered the small factoid from the brief background she’d been given that he had no siblings.